


Wedding Favours

by teapig



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, Gentle Sex, M/M, Porn with a fair bit of plot, chubving, priest irving au, sorry Pilk for the outright slander, wedding dramas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:55:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23641948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teapig/pseuds/teapig
Summary: With wedding planning driving him up the wall, Solomon doesn't know why anyone even thinks of trying to get married anymore. However, a certain gentle priest might just be about to change that slightly.
Relationships: Lt John Irving/Sgt Solomon Tozer
Comments: 10
Kudos: 33





	Wedding Favours

**Author's Note:**

> This is almost ENTIRELY the fault of @TakeAStepOut and my shenanigans - after Whiny Bottom Sol turned up twice in 24 hours, once in my Tozer/Heather/Six Pounder fic, and then with Hickey in theirs, I just HAD to finish the trilogy and get John in there for some shenanigans! (At 3am. Again.)

Solomon had been wondering for quite some time why on earth people ever got married. It had been an ongoing saga ever since Will had told him that he was planning to propose to Jessica. Having been "like an older brother to me" in the marines apparently meant that Solomon was well-trained to be best man, and for the open warfare that the wedding planning process had become.   
"We have to meet with the priest a couple of times before the wedding," Pilkington had told him casually, "you mind coming with?"   
"Sure," Solomon had replied, "it'd be good to know we're in safe hands."

After the first meeting, it quickly became clear that while the ceremony was indeed in safe hands, the wedding was not so. Sol stared into his lap as the fiancés began to bicker, then shout, then scream at each other about the number of people that should or shouldn't be in their wedding procession, his cheeks beginning to burn in second hand embarrassment for the 'happy' couple as she stormed out, Pilkington hot on her heels. It was only when the priest let out a sigh that Sol really dared to look at him properly, his bashful gaze met by clear blue eyes and a sympathetic smile. "One of those couples, huh?" Reverend Irving joked, an easy-going smile on his face, quickly breaking down the tension surrounding Solomon as he let out a laugh.   
"You could certainly put it that way, yeah…" he replied, slowly turning to face the priest better before taking him in. He'd be blind if he said he wasn't handsome - and that captivating smile quickly put him at ease.  
"Do they always fight like this? Or is it just wedding stress?" The priest asked, reaching for the water jug and pouring them a glass each.  
Solomon laughed out loud then, reaching for the glass with a nod of thanks before settling back. "I'm not entirely sure why they're getting married at this point to be honest. He always says it's the right thing to do, whatever that means. She likes his rank and all that… but apart from that, I don't get it at all."

~~~~

Solomon brought muffins to the next meeting, soft blueberry ones, others with sticky toffee and pecan nuts, taken fresh from the oven not even an hour ago. They were meant as a peace offering of sorts - or at least as an apology to the priest ("Call me John," he'd insisted as he left with a warm handshake, his soft hand vanishing under Sol's larger, rough one) for all the yelling. Before long, however, they were left alone together again, a rueful smile on John's face and an apologetic one on Solomon's. "Still like that I see," came the wry remark as the door slammed shut again, the echoes of raised voices still vaguely audible, screeching about the inanities of the flower arrangements.   
"Should've seen the fight about the suits. He wants us both in uniform. She wants it to be just him because that's how she'd "always pictured her special day"... I don't think they've decided yet." He broke off as John began to chuckle at his impression, his eyes flickering up to see that smile again.  
"Sounds like she enjoys her control," John prompted, reaching for a muffin in the process.  
"Well, we knew that already. We called him Will in the forces - now it's "William, Pilkington or nothing" thank you very much, because he's "her Will" now, and that's supposedly that."

John couldn't quite hide the "yikes" that slipped out, hastily taking a bite of his muffin to try and cover the sound. Shifting awkwardly in the silence, Sol continued quickly, "I've been trying to tell him that he doesn't have to do this; there's been so many red flags from the start, but he's convinced that this is what he wants and that I'm jealous or something… if he’s scared of a gay man stealing your wife though-" he paused, suddenly fearing John's reaction a moment too late. He shrunk into himself until he heard John laugh again, his eyes warm as he looked over sympathetically.   
"What a mess they've got you into… we’ll just have to find you someone even more handsome, hm?" He joked, Sol's shoulders relaxing as no proclamation of sin seemed forthcoming. He grinned bashfully, stretching his arms up to try and shift the tension lying there.  
"Still," he replied, "I'm sorry you have to put up with all this. Bet you've got a million more important things to do than listen to all this."  
John's cheeky smile came with dimples, Solomon noticed - and once he had, he could barely look away. "At least I'm getting paid for it!" He joked, "unlike you getting dumped with all the donkey work and little thanks I'll bet?" Solomon's blush answered for him as he rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. "At least I've got you here to keep me company… and these lovely muffins of course!" He added brightly.  
The praise seemed to lighten Solomon's mood a little, his shy smile returning as he glanced back up. "You like them?" He asked softly, John's enthusiastic response leading the smile up to his eyes. "At one point I was going to be making the cake for them too - well, until she pointed out that it's 'not a boy's job'... Pity the poor baker who has to put up with them though!" 

From there, the conversation lilted on as they waited for the missing couple to return. On his drive home, Solomon passed the vicarage, its neat garden and warm light from the windows the perfect picture of domesticity. Of course John would be married, Solomon admonished himself. Two and a half children as well probably, maybe a golden lab called Rover or something for good measure… He almost yearned for that kind of bliss then, before his phone buzzed with yet more demanding texts that reminded him exactly why he shouldn’t.

~~~

When John arrived for the final meeting with the soon-to-be Pilkingtons, there was already some shouting - this time, however, Solomon seemed to be the target as he clutched a Tupperware to his chest.  
"You're trying to ruin my wedding!" Came the accusatory screech, "trying to fatten me up so that I won't fit in my dress and look stupid and-"  
"Good afternoon, friends," John interrupted, pretending he hadn't heard any of it, "shall we step inside?"  
"Not if he's bringing that crap inside," Jessica snapped, "could've been doing something useful for my wedding instead of baking like a housewife with no life."  
John smiled through gritted teeth, "I'm sure Solomon's hard work won't go to waste, Miss Jennings, but that's not the point of today is it?"  
She scowled at being reprimanded, whilst Pilkington pinched at the bridge of his nose. "You could do with laying off them too, Rev. All that extra weight doesn't suit you." 

John was long past caring about his chub: in fact, he rather liked it. "Or maybe we could both try buying our outfits in the right sizes instead of going a few too small and relying on a wish and a prayer, hm?" Solomon smothered a smirk as Pilkington groaned under his breath, clearly wishing that John hadn't said anything. "Now then, might we get started before the wedding's over? I don't have all day." He said, pushing the door to the office open breezily and patiently holding it open as Jessica's mouth opened and shut like a fish before she flounced inside. Solomon's eyes were dancing as he passed John, setting a box of fresh chocolate éclairs on the table with a grin. 

The meeting didn't get any better from there, the tensions bubbling away under the surface. Solomon, for once, wasn't quite listening, beginning to question his choice of treat as he watched John tuck in, his delicate tongue sweeping any errant cream from his lips and holding his attention. In all honesty, he wasn't sure what this spat was about - only that it was Pilkington who left first this time, Jessica's shoes clacking in the hallway as she hollered after him. 

John dragged his hands over his face slowly before peeking up at Solomon. "Can you remind me of this one next time Mrs So-and-So who does the flowers is on my case about finding a nice little wife?" He asked ruefully, a pained smile on his face.   
Solomon's mind whistled through a number of possible responses before he processed quite what had been said. "Wait, you're not married?" He asked, slightly more bluntly than he'd meant to.  
"No Solomon," John replied, tapping his bare ring finger as Solomon began to blush, "and even if I was, it certainly wouldn't be to a nice _lady_ , should I say…"  
Solomon's heart was in his throat. Was this… John coming out to him? He tried not to get his hopes up, imagining all the lovely boyfriends John might have at home. "Oh!" He squeaked, desperate to not leave John hanging, "yeah. Well. I always thought men were more sensible until Will started playing these games with us." He swallowed heavily as John hummed in reply before moaning around his bite of éclair.  
"I'm sorry, but I think these might just be my salvation today Solomon… even if it might ruin my figure!" He winked, Solomon's laugh filling the small space as they settled in for another long wait.

~~~

The wedding rehearsal fell the day before the ceremony itself, and supposedly before a final rehearsal dinner. Solomon was exhausted and yet deeply relieved that the couple had managed to make it through the rehearsal itself without bickering - only for another round to break out in the car park, with no escape for anyone involved. He could feel the silent annoyance radiating from John as his peaceful churchyard was disturbed by the words (and a handbag) that flew between the couple. After the bride-to-be's sister had been snapped at for asking if the dinner was still on, Solomon took it as a no, and sidled up to John. "You wanna get out of here?" He whispered conspiratorially, "I can give you a lift if you want?" The relief on John's face was palpable, and the haste with which he buckled himself into the car gave testament to quite how uncomfortable he'd been.   
"Are you sure they aren't divorcing tomorrow as well?" He asked tiredly, "I've seen a lot of weddings in my time, but nothing quite like this." Solomon smiled at him ruefully as he kicked the car into gear, getting out of the car park before anyone could stop them. 

"I can't wait for all of this to be over tomorrow," he confessed once they were safely on the road, "and to think I was getting a free dinner out of all of this!"  
John smiled over at him, letting the window down for some fresh air after the tense atmosphere.   
"I was just thinking about picking up some fish and chips and retreating for the night after all that," he said tentatively, "you'd be welcome to join me? I-if you'd like?" Solomon's attempts at excuses of not wanting to intrude on his time quickly fell flat, and before long they were back out of the car, a blanket pulled from the trunk tucked under his arm while John carried a warm paper bag. He'd refused to let Solomon pay for his own, calling it payback for the treats he'd brought to those dreaded meetings, and matching Solomon's determination with his own. 

Having ambled along a quiet path for some time, John led him to a broad patch of grass bathed in the evening sunlight. "How about here?" He asked, before helping Solomon to spread the blanket and easing himself down onto it.  
Solomon looked ten years younger now that all the fuss was out of sight, the tension dropping from his shoulders as he settled down next to him.   
"'s a beautiful part of the world this, isn't it?" He asked, staring out at the fields stretching away from him. "Wish I got away from the town more to see it, really."  
"Why don't you?" John asked, the clear already clear in his mind.  
"Too much to do, too little time. Too many people needing it." Came the gruff reply as Solomon rifled through the bag for some cutlery and missed the sympathetic look above him.   
John would hear much more about all those favours and commitments that lay on Solomon's shoulders that evening - the children he watched on the weekends for siblings and friends alike, the dog he walked for his elderly neighbour, the constant favours for other veterans, both those who needed it and those, like tomorrow's husband-to-be, who had come to expect it. He was aching to shake him by the shoulders and ask who on earth was looking after him, but knew that the answer he got wouldn't be the one he wanted to hear. 

As the temperature dropped, they migrated closer together, the heat radiating from Solomon like a magnet to John. The sunset brought a lighter mood, the two of them joking around, unafraid to give a little shove for a bad pun, or a squeeze to the shoulder at a heartfelt comment. Once dusk drew in and the stars began to appear, John found himself leaning against Solomon, his cheek pressed to his shoulder, and one hand resting on his knee. "Thank you for tonight, John," came that deep voice again, "it-it's been really nice just to talk to someone, y'know? Where the only consequences would be blowing off steam rather than more responsibilities..." John squeezed his leg knowingly, bumping their shoulders together.

"You can't carry the world alone, Solomon, no matter how hard you try." Solomon's eyes seemed even darker in the twilight, and when John looked up at him again, he couldn't help but shiver at how close they'd drifted, their faces close enough that he'd barely have to stretch if he wanted to-

His train of thought broke off as Solomon's big hand covered his own, thumb stroking over his knuckles tentatively. "I-is this okay?" Solomon asked, that sweet blush gracing his cheeks once again.   
"Of course, Solomon," John murmured in reply, before taking his heart in both hands and brushing his lips over Solomon's stubbled jaw. "But is this?" He felt Solomon gasp against him, and was ready to jolt away, expecting the familiar sting of rejection. But it never came. Instead, Solomon's eyes gazed back down at him, the vulnerability clear in them as he swallowed heavily. "Y-yeah…But I think this might be even better…" he murmured, leaning down slowly enough that John could have ducked away if he'd wanted to, only for him to reach up instead, closing the distance between their lips quickly and smiling into the kiss. The grin that Solomon gave him as they broke away spurred him on, John reaching to wrap his arms around his neck and pull him in for a second, a third, and more, each lasting longer than the last, and seeing John being pulled slowly into his lap. When they finally needed to stop and catch their breath, John took one more risk. "You know you mentioned blowing off steam… mine isn't far from here, you know?" He grinned mischievously as Solomon's eyes darkened, only to feel himself being hoisted up into his strong arms and let out a giggle.   
"Well in that case, I think you'd better lead the way." Solomon husked, reaching for his hand to pull him up, and barely letting go until they were safely behind closed doors.

As he'd expected, John's house was perfect - not that he saw much of it before he was being tugged eagerly up the stairs, and kissed into the wall. "C'mon Sol," John murmured to him as he opened the button at his throat and pressed a soft kiss there, "let me take care of you tonight, yeah? You've more than earned it." Solomon couldn’t help but melt back against the wall, a moan catching in his throat until John’s echoing moan urged it out. Blue eyes full of eagerness, John tugged him through the bedroom door, pushing him down against the soft pillows and clambering over him with a grin that Solomon soon felt against his throat. “Tell me, Solly,” John whispered as he nipped at his earlobe, “what is it that you’d like the most, hm? Anything you like, I don’t mind.” Solomon’s eyes widened as he thought, not used to being offered the choice. He slipped a hand up under John’s jumper, the soft fabric giving way to even softer skin that left him gasping. 

“You… Want you, inside me ‘f-if you don’t mind that. It’s fine if you don’t though-” he blurted out, only for John’s lips to silence him as his heart broke a little at the ingrained habit Solomon had of apologising for nothing.   
“Want me to fill you up, hm? Help you to let go, focus on you for tonight?” He whispered between ragged kisses, his fingers working the buttons of Sol’s shirt open, grazing the muscles beneath it, but keeping his eyes on his face as he kissed back down his throat. 

They stripped down quietly, hands exploring each expanse of skin as they went, Solomon’s toned and littered with jagged scars that made John’s heart pause as he tried not to think of all the pain they must’ve caused him. He found there was no need to be shy in front of Solomon, his chubby thighs and soft stomach traced over by reverent hands that pulled him in, pressing their chests together as Solomon whispered “so gorgeous, John, fuck,” against his lips. Before long, John had Solomon nestled against his side, a hand snaking between his legs as he began to open him up, dotting kisses to his throat and feeling each moan vibrate through it as Solomon shivered against him, each finger leaving his legs twitching a little further apart for him. There were easier angles, it had to be said, but John knew this wasn’t either of their first rodeos by a long shot, and so prioritised Solomon’s comfort over anything else, whispering sweet praises to him as he began to rock back onto his fingers, and taking it all at his pace. Solomon’s back arched as he rubbed over his prostate, his mouth twisting into an open-mouthed smile as he let himself revel in the easy pleasure, John’s praises promising him that he didn’t need to put up any pretences, only feel and revel in the feeling of being cared for. 

Eventually, Solomon pulled himself up, John’s fingers slipping free as he reached up for a kiss, shifting his weight over John’s prone body. “‘M ready,” Solomon murmured, nipping at the point of John’s jaw and leaving him sighing at the sensation, “wanna ride you, feel you deep in me.” John moaned at the eager tone in his voice, only to squeak at what followed. “You clean, gorgeous? Wanna feel _all_ of you, filling me up…” Solomon husked, grinning roguishly as John nodded, and shifting back down his body with a final, lingering kiss. John’s hands moved to rest on Solomon’s waist as he lifted himself, encouraging him to take things as slowly as he needed before that slick, tight heat began to envelope him.   
“Fuck, Sol, you feel so good,” he whined out, his moans choked off as he watched Solomon’s head drop forward, the pleasure writ large on his face as he sank down. He panted as he reached the hilt, clenching around John with a breathless moan before reaching forward to nip at his lips again, a playful smile on his own.

“Didn’t know priests were allowed to swear, John,” he teased, kissing his laugh against his lips even as John slapped lightly at his thigh, a grin mirroring his own between kisses.   
“Shut up and ride me ‘if you're going to be cheeky!” John joked back, letting his hips stutter up into Solomon and watching his smile drop into a pleased ‘o’. Solomon clenched down as he regained his bearings, before slowly beginning to rock his hips. He was used to this kind of thing being hard and fast, if his partners wanted it at all - but the open care in John’s face was enough to help him slow down and really feel it. He gasped at the first drop down, swinging his hips as he searched for the right angle, his hands roaming over John’s chest, needing something to cling onto.   
“Oh, John, _yes,_ ” he moaned out as he settled into a rhythm, muscles flexing as he clenched and rocked, John’s cock rubbing against his prostate with every thrust and leaving him keening softly over him. 

Solomon’s eyes were growing foggy with pleasure as he relaxed at last, and John couldn’t help but reach up to cup his face gently, stroking his cheek as he panted back up at him. “Look at you, Sol,” he murmured, gazing up as if Solomon might shatter under his touch, “So, so good for me, so gorgeous… Chase your pleasure for me, hm? Show me what you like best, what you need, love.” Solomon couldn’t help but whine at the pet name, realising how much he’d been needing that easy affection, and reaching up to hold John’s hand in place. He began to pick up the pace, clenching down on every thrust as if to keep John just where he wanted him, each moan being punched out of him as he dropped back down. John squirmed as Solomon grew more needy, his sounds only increasing his own desperation finding himself fighting to keep his hips in check even as they stuttered under him. Solomon seemed to notice, and leaned in to nip at his lips once more.  
“Fuck me John, please? Make me feel it, make me remember it, remember how good it felt to be yours?” He begged, his moans now littered with broken “please”s, a cry falling from his lips as John did exactly what he was asked. He was stronger than Sol had expected, meeting each thrust easily and leaving him keening with pleasure. Hastily he reached for John’s hand, meeting his gaze, his eyes pleading as he squeezed it swiftly before pulling it down to where his cock was dripping between them. His head dropped back with a cry of John’s name as he wrapped his hand around him, stroking in time with each thrust and meeting each moan with more encouragement, his voice unsteady as he moaned “that’s it, Sol, yes… such a good boy, ‘m so close…” As he edged closer, Solomon was reduced to bouncing in his lap, lifted more by John’s thrusts than his own strength as his hips began to shake.   
  
“Fuck, _John_ ,” he whined, “‘m gonna cum, please let me cum, I need y- _oh!_ ” He cried out as John hit his prostate just right, spilling over John’s hand and clenching tight as John’s strong hips rocked him through it. He mewled as he felt John arch up beneath him, his cum filling him up just as he’d been needing, and leaving him almost overstimulated as the pleasure wracked through him. As the final aftershocks subsided, the adrenaline went with it, leaving him slumping forward against John’s chest where he was met by warm arms ready to hold him. 

Time seemed to pause after that - the gentle strokes over his back giving way to soft hands cleaning him up, and John’s warm voice constantly reminding him that he was good, and safe, and wanted. Once they were both clean, Solomon snuggled up, hoping to be allowed to stay a little while longer and nuzzling in for more kisses as he clung onto his afterglow. “Thank you,” he whispered between kisses, “‘ve… I’ve never had anyone take care of me like this before. Didn’t know I needed it before tonight, but now…” He paused, looking away bashfully as he pressed their bodies together. John stroked his curls back before kissing at his forehead tenderly.  
“Well, even after tomorrow’s said and done, there’s always someone here who wants you very much, and would like to take care of you, if you’d let him? Not for anything in return, mind,” he cautioned as Solomon’s mouth opened to protest or offer, he couldn’t guess which, “but because I-I think you’re wonderful, and deserve a whole lot more than what you’ve been getting, hm?”   
Solomon couldn’t help but kiss him at that, his arms linking around John’s neck as he tried to show just how grateful he was.

~~~

The wedding seemed to go off without a hitch, and if anyone noticed the tension in the way Solomon stood, they simply chalked it up to nerves, and the limp down to old injuries. If anyone wondered why both best man and priest kept their uniform coat and dog collar buttoned firmly in place throughout the reception, they didn’t question it, assuming there was some kind of unwritten rule written within the medal ribbons that drew a straight line over Solomon’s chest, looking nothing like the jagged scars that had earned them, hidden safely underneath the layers of fabric. By the time the first dance was over, the relief was palpable on both mens’ faces, and their escape was swift.

And if anyone happened to notice them leaving in the same taxi, well - times were tough, money was tight, there was no harm in that. Little did they know where they were headed; nor that said pristine uniform would barely make it through the front door if John - sweet, gentle, innocent Reverend Irving - had any say in the matter.


End file.
